Spoils of War: A SYOT
by mystical pine forest
Summary: It's 2236, and World War IV has been raging for a whole century. To help end the war, the United Nations starts the Competition, pitting child against child, country against country, and ally against ally. Who will take home the spoils of war? DISCONTINUED, PLACINGS POSTED
1. Prologue Part 1

_"Everyone wants peace, but no one can seem to find it."_

* * *

 _Berlin, Germany_  
 _19 February 2236_

* * *

The year is 2236. World War IV wages on beyond the walls of the bunker that holds the leaders of the ninety-eight nations of the globe, who are all gathered to make a decision that could change the course of the war.

They mingle, speaking to each other in English, the official language of the United Nations. In hushed tones, the most powerful people in the world discuss what lays ahead, for the world and for the people who call it home.

The war has gone on for a full century. Peace and love have not shown their face since before the North Koreans dropped an atom bomb on the American city of Dallas a hundred years ago, wiping out all of the surrounding area and killing thousands. Soon after, the USA declared war on North Korea, backed by France, Great Britain, Canada, and Australia. Since then, population has declined, nations have been wiped out, and multiple full hundred-mile-square sections of the planet have become uninhabitable.

People are starting to get fed up with the drafts, the air raids, the drills, the death. They're ready to rest easy again. Everyone wants peace, but no one can seem to find it.

So the nations of the world have agreed to send their leaders to Berlin, where they have resided for a full week, trying to agree on a solution. And they think they've found one.

"Attention!"

The leaders fall silent and look up at the stage, where Diana Mackey, president of the United States, stands, next to Kim Chung-Hee, leader of North Korea. This is new. Never in the history of World War IV have the American and Korean leaders been this close.

"All right, thank you. Take your seats," Diana says, hesitating to let everyone sit. "Now, as you all know, Kim Chung-Hee and I have been conferring about how to proceed. Neither of us want this, and I'm sure none of you want it either. However, we see no other solution."

Chung-Hee nods. "We have decided to put our plan to a vote. If half or more of you vote in favor of the Competition, it will take place. The competitors' home countries will be decided at that point. If you vote against the Competition, we will find another solution. Keep in mind that by the guidelines of this meeting, none of us may return home until an agreement is reached."

Diana smiles wryly. "To refresh our memories of the specifics of the Competition, these are the rules we have drafted thus far: Twenty-four competitors, aged twelve to eighteen, from twelve nations, will be removed from their homes and sent here to Berlin. Here, they will train for three days in survival and fighting, using state-of-the-art equipment and instruction. At the end of three days, they will be flown to a remote location, called an Arena, and made to fight to the death until only one remains."

Chung-Hee continues Diana's statement. "The winner of the Competition will be flown home to their country, along with desperately needed supplies, food, first aid, and water for the citizens. The United Nations will back the winner's country in wartime for one year with extra help, no matter who wins. At the end of the one-year period, if the war still rages, the cycle will begin again, with another Competition."

"Let us vote." Diana says. She and Chung-Hee shake hands and return to their seats, and the Chancellor of Germany, Elise Wagner, takes the stage.

She speaks briskly and with purpose. Elise isn't one to talk in circles. "I will not be voting today, as to break any ties. All in favor of the Competition, please stand at this time."

Seventy-two leaders stand. A headcount is performed, and double-checked.

"All right, you may sit. And all against?"

The remaining twenty-seven stand. Again, a headcount is performed, double-checked, and Elise gives the signal to sit.

"All right, thank you all. The people have spoken, and the very first Competition will be taking place in four months' time. As per the decisions that were made earlier, the eight nations that originally took part in the war will each send two competitors, one male and one female, by random lot. That's... the United States, Great Britain, Canada, France, North Korea, Germany, Russia, and China. The other four nations taking part will be South Africa, Egypt, Japan, and Australia, as they were the next nations to join the war effort."

"Tonight, the United Nations will broadcast a mandatory message to all citizens of every country, explaining the rules of the Competition and the lottery process. This concludes the meeting. Thank you all for coming, and good luck."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I couldn't resist. I started thinking about this a while back, and now that we're halfway done with the Arena in HTWB, I figured I might as well post it. It's been a heck of a lot of fun making this idea come to life, so I hope you decide to join me on the ride :)**

 **Just so you know, throughout the story I'll be writing from first person present tense, just like in HTWB. This is different, since there's no one narrator this chapter. That'll change later on.**

 **Submissions won't be due anytime soon, seeing as I'll probably take a few months to finish HTWB. So keep an eye out for the deadline, but it'll probably not be till about mid-September, at the earliest.**

 **Everything you need to know is on my profile, so definitely check that out. I've made a google form for submissions- super easy, and doesn't clog up my inbox- but if you need to edit your characters later please reach out to me, since I don't think you get to see your responses once you submit.**

 **At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the first prologue, and I hope to see you stick around! :D**

 **Until next time!**


	2. Prologue Part 2

_"At this point, so many lives have been lost that in the big scheme of things, twenty-four more don't really matter."_

* * *

 _Elisabet Mueller (age 19, citizen of the German Federation)_

 _Frankfurt, Germany_

 _19 February 2236_

* * *

War rages on outside my window, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being forced into the cellar every time a bomb warning is issued within a hundred kilometers of me. I'm sick of the constant blackouts, the surveillance cameras everywhere I go, the draft that has pulled away from me my brother, my cousins, and my boyfriend. Only my boyfriend is still living, and even he seems to be half-dead with the trauma of war.

Germany in general seems to agree with me. We're all fed up with the bomb threats, the deaths, the destruction that the war has caused. We've all begged Elise Wagner, our beloved Chancellor, to end Germany's suffering, to pull out of the war while we still have time. However, she will not be convinced. No matter what the population does, we are stuck in a war until she decides otherwise.

Which is why I'm a little surprised when the comm flicks on above my bed. I put down the book I had been half-reading, anticipating what our Chancellor has to say.

"THIS IS A MANDATORY BROADCAST," the screen flashes. "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN OFF OR UNPLUG YOUR DEVICE." We all know the drill. Turn off your device during a mandatory announcement, and get jail time. I guess they want us to be informed, but really, all they're doing is scaring little kids.

The tall, angular figure of Elise Wagner appears on the main port of the comm, taking up the whole screen. Her face is grim and solemn. She looks to be delivering bad news.

"Good evening, Germany," says Chancellor Wagner. She speaks English. Most people do- it makes it easier to communicate, and although it's a difficult language to learn, our children have been taught English as their first language since World War Three ended. "I know what you must be thinking. It is with great regret that I must inform you that we have not pulled out of the war. Yet."

I let a breath out. Of course not. This is a bomb warning, isn't it? How could I be so stupid to think that the Chancellor would pull out that easily?

"Now, the United Nations met this morning. We believe we, as representatives of you and of every other country out there, have come up with a plan to help the war end faster. We call this the Competition."

"Let me explain. The Competition will be an annual event, continuing until the war is resolved. It will require two Competitors, children between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to be sent by random lot from each of twelve predetermined countries here to Berlin. Upon their arrival, we will train them in the art of ancient war tactics- that is, combat with no bombs, guns, tanks, or anything of similar nature- and score them on their abilities. More on the scoring will be released as the Competition goes on."

"After the scoring, the Competitors will be flown to a remote location and will fight to the death, using swords, axes, bows, and other ancient weapons, until only one remains. This winner will be rewarded with fame and fortune for themself and their family, as well as the support of the UN through donations of much-needed supplies for one year."

I gape at the TV. In the back of my head, a voice tells me that I can't have heard the comm right. But my rational brain tells me that Chancellor is telling the truth. At this point, so many lives have been lost that in the big scheme of things, twenty-four more don't really matter. And Elise Wagner has never been one to play around with her words.

"Now, the random lot for the first Competition will take place on the tenth of June of this year. That day, a mandatory broadcast will be sent out introducing the names of the chosen, and alerting those who were drawn. The day after, police will be sent to personally escort each Competitor from their home to their personal suite in Berlin, where they will reside until the beginning of the Competition."

"I know this must come as a shock, but I hope that it will help end the war and make the world a safer place for us all. That will be all. Thank you."

My smartphone rings right as the comm flicks off. With shaky hands, I answer it. It's my boyfriend, Alvin.

"Hey, babe," I say into the phone.

"Lissy, did you see the broadcast?"

"Of course. Who didn't? Alvin, how can they do this?"

"I don't know, baby, but they have, and now it's too late to change their minds... I just hope Greta and Alfonso will be safe."

I nod and sink into the bed. "Me too. Me too. And it's selfish, but I'm so glad I'm nineteen and you're twenty. We're safe, Al."

"I know, Elisabet. I love you. I have to go now, it's drill time. Please stay safe and send Greta and Alfonso and your parents my love." I hear the urgency in Alvin's tone, so I cooperate, though I have so many questions. Did Al know anything about this? What does he think about it? Is he okay?

"I will." I hang up the phone, placing it on the nightstand, and cover my eyes. This is going to be a stressful few months.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! I'm back again, with a bit of a filler prologue to bump this story up to the first page, and hopefully clear up a bit about the lot system.**

 **I'm still in need of submissions for six spots: the USA, North Korea, South Africa, Russia, and France males, along with the China female. Keep the submissions coming! They're all great.**

 **I hope that next chapter will include the Competitor List and blog link, but if it doesn't then it'll be a third prologue. At any rate, the Selection process will start in either two or three chapters.**

 **Thank you for all of the incredible support and submissions to this story! You have no idea how much I appreciate you all.**

 **See you next time, hopefully with a Competitor List! :D**


	3. Prologue Part 3 and List Reveal

_"Twenty-three kids, children, will be murdered out of sheer desperation, and not just the desperation of the other Competitors- also, the desperation of the rest of the world."_

* * *

 _Elise Wagner (age 49, Chancellor of Germany)  
_ _Berlin, Germany  
_ _21 February 2236_

* * *

The backlash on the decision the UN made to start the Competition has been nasty, and there's been a lot of it. I personally know what is going on, although if I didn't have to know what happens around the nation and world, I wouldn't want to. I'd keep my head out of the media. However, as the Chancellor of Germany, this is impossible. Ever since I arrived home after recording the broadcast there have been reporters and video broadcasters at my door. They haven't left in the two days since then, and don't plan to anytime soon.

No one can understand why the Competition has been put into place. Why end twenty-three innocent lives? What will that do? How will it help? Honestly, I'm on the side of the protesters. If I had voted, I'd have voted not to start the Competition. Not that it'd have mattered. Whether I had voted or not, the Competition will still be happening in four-ish months. Twenty-three kids, children, will be murdered out of sheer desperation, and not just the desperation of the other Competitors- also, the desperation of the rest of the world. No one wants this, but they're all desperate enough to accept any phoney story they get.

The United Nations is an organization of its word. The winning country will, in fact, receive prizes in the form of supplies, men, food, first aid, and the return of a child, likely with severe trauma. But what will that really do? Will it help at all? No one is sure, not even the president of the UN. Personally, I think it won't do much.

But who am I to talk? I'm just the Chancellor. I make decisions, but a lot of the time, I just do what I'm told. And hopefully, this time, the UN will be right.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it's the moment we've all been waiting for. The Reveal. And I'm not going to hold it back any longer, except to say- I'm sorry if I didn't accept your tribute. I got too many submissions to accept (28 to be exact) so while many of you got your tribute(s) accepted, there were a few I had to deny. If your tribute was denied, please feel free to resubmit them elsewhere. No hard feelings I hope.**

 **And without further ado, here's the List!**

 _USA Female: Rosen "Rosey" Whyte, 15  
_ _USA Male: Miles Gloriousus, 17_

 _China Female: Keran "Karen" Chan, 14  
_ _China Male: Tian Jin, 16_

 _Great Britain Female: Natalya Abramovich, 16  
_ _Great Britain Male: Charles Lane, 18_

 _Australia Female: Kiera "Kiri" Amados, 18  
_ _Australia Male: Ronan Quinn, 18_

 _North Korea Female: Seo-yun Choi, 14  
_ _North Korea Male: Hwan Joon, 16_

 _Egypt Female: Nadia Boutros, 15  
_ _Egypt Male: Gyasi Rahal, 12_

 _South Africa Female: Claudia Larkspur, 18  
_ _South Africa Male: William "Bill" Nye, 16_

 _Russia Female: Irena Petrov, 18  
_ _Russia Male: Vadim Solokov, 17_

 _France Female: Lina Perez, 13  
_ _France Male: Chevy Renault, 15_

 _Germany Female: Harimanne "Harri" Deitcher, 18  
_ _Germany Male: Jannik Hasenkamp, 16_

 _Canada Female: Helen Delgado, 13  
_ _Canada Male: Hyperion Westfall, 16_

 _Japan Female: Mina Miori, 15  
_ _Japan Male: Kazuki Miori, 12_

 **The blog link is on my profile, but heck, I'm putting it here too. The blog link is [** _spoilsofwarhg. weebly. com_ **] (no spaces). I'd appreciate blog reviews, as this blog took hours and a lot of hassle to make, but they aren't mandatory by any means.**

 **The next chapter will be the USA Intros, and I'm excited to see you all there!**

 **See you all next time! :D**


	4. USA Intros

_I figure that if the people I sit by are extraordinary, boring old me will blend right in. I'll be forgotten, and able to read, just how I like it._

* * *

 _Rosen "Rosey" Whyte (age 14, citizen of the United States of A_ _merica)_

 _Detroit, Michigan, USA_

 _August 19, 2235_

* * *

Today is my first day of high school. I'm nervous, and rightly so- there are entirely too many people here at Cesar Chavez High. At my middle school, there were only about three hundred kids, a hundred a grade, but here, there's probably over a thousand divided among the four grades. It sure doesn't help that I'm a freshman with only one friend and no classes with said friend.

I hug my binder to my chest as I walk through the daunting halls of the school. Lunchtime has always been my least favorite time of day. I have to associate with the lunch ladies and the kids I accidentally bump into and the kids who accidentally bump into me, and sometimes even the kids who slide into the seat next to me and try to start a conversation. I hate when that happens. I hate talking to people. I'd rather read.

I make my way through the throngs of people in the hall who are chatting it up. I wish they'd go find a table or something- they're blocking the hall for the rest of us and making it hard to get anywhere. I check my watch. There's only fifteen minutes left in lunch, I still don't have my food, and I have no idea how to get to the cafeteria. Well, shit.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I try to ignore it. Kyler will have to wait for me to get to the place we agreed to meet. He's a good kid, but he is a little strange in that he always likes to know where I am. I think he likes me... which is good, because to be honest, I like him too. A lot. I've daydreamed more than once about his lips.

I catch sight of a sign out of the corner of my eye. Quickly, I scan it over, and head in the direction I'm pointed in to get to the cafeteria. It actually doesn't take long to get there, and I file away its location in my head. Picking up a tray, I slip into line and grab my food- today, it's a _delicious_ piece of pepperoni pizza, a carton of milk, an orange, and a package of Oreos. Not too shabby, except that the pizza looks like it came from a trash can. I make my way back to the hall.

"Rosey! Rosey!" I hear my name and roll my eyes with a good-natured smile. Kyler must have seen me. I turn around and spot him, waving and smiling. I beeline to the table.

"Hey, Ky. How were first and second?"

He shrugs. "Decent. Math and English. I swear, I'm gonna need some help with English. You know that annotation of Fahrenheit 451 we were supposed to do over the summer? Well, we turned that in today, and turns out I didn't do it well enough..." He swallows a bite of sandwich.

"Well, I can do that, if you help me with math. I have it second period, and I'm already lost. Y equals m times x plus b, I can do. Not y times a b to the xth power. I'm gonna fail."

Kyler pats my back. "Well," he says, "I'm glad you've got me! You can't flunk out, anyway. What would I do?"

I smile. "Cry, probably."

He laughs. "Yeah, knowing me."

We eat in silence for a good while until Kyler brings up another topic of conversation. "So what have you been reading lately?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Bring it on, sista."

"Well, there's the classics- To Kill a Mockingbird was fantastic, and so was The Hunger Games. To be honest, I wasn't a fan of Fahrenheit 451. It was a good concept but I kept getting lost in all of the descriptions. Uh... can't forget Harry Potter, too."

"How many times have you read that series now?"

"Probably close to fifteen or twenty."

Kyler shakes his head. "You nerd."

"You know you love me!" I respond.

The first bell rings and we stand up, clearing our trays. I've only finished a little bit of the pizza, but honestly, it's so unappetizing that I think that's all I'm going to get down anyway.

"Where are you headed?" I ask Kyler.

He grimaces. "P.E. Don't remind me."

"Yikes. I'm in science."

"Well, at least you don't have to run around in circles, am I right?"

"I guess," I say, smiling. "See you after school?"

Kyler nods. We head in our separate directions and once again, I am lost. Making my way through the crowd of upperclassmen, I pull out the map of my school. It takes a good three minutes of the five allotted between the first and start bells for me to even get to the science classroom.

When I arrive, I slide into a seat near the middle of the room next to an emo girl and a boy with long hair that stares longingly into the eyes of his seat neighbor. They must be a thing. I figure that if the people I sit by are extraordinary, boring old me will blend right in. I'll be forgotten, and able to read, just how I like it.

The start bell rings quickly after I sit down. I slide my bookmark into the book and place it on the table. Although once we get into the thick of the school year I'll read during class, I figure knowing my teacher's name might be a good idea.

I pay attention for about five minutes, enough to catch the teacher's name- Mr. Child- and basic rules that have stayed the same since first grade- don't go to the bathroom without asking, don't talk while the teacher is, blah blah blah. The teacher apparently wants to get right into the assignment, and it's over something I learned last year, so I pull my book out and lose myself in the world of Hogwarts.

* * *

 _My family is dead. I'm going back to Battlesford, as long as Dom permits it. And I'm scared. Honestly, I'm scared._

* * *

 _Miles Gloriousus (age 16, citizen of the United States of America)_

 _Buffalo, New York, USA_

 _April 3, 2235_

* * *

It's warm for April, and that's the first thing I notice as I step out of the bunker. It's a calm day, with little breeze. No clouds litter the bright blue sky. You'd think that here, in New York City, New York, there'd be lines of cars stretching miles and buildings taller than trees by far. The city should be bustling and busy, with honking horns and talking people and the smell of New York-style pizza in the air.

But now New York is the opposite of busy and bustling. After the bomb dropped last year on New York City and the surrounding area hit, the city was destroyed. Only about a hundred thousand of the eight million who lived in the New York City area survived.

I remember that day clearly. I was in school with the rest of the senior class in Battlesford, my hometown- I skipped two grades in elementary school- when the emergency comm lit up. We all fell silent, holding our breath, worried to hear what had happened now.

"Breaking news," said the reporter on the screen with a grim expression on his face. "We regret to inform you that a bombing has taken place in the great city of New York, New York less than ten minutes ago. There will be few survivors, and casualty counts are very high."

Everybody gasped. A girl in the back stood up and ran to the bathroom with a green face, and the boy that sat behind me pulled out his phone and started texting, probably to find out if his family was safe. I remembered talking to him, and that he had told me that his grandmother lived there.

I was one of the only kids who really didn't know what to do. The teacher had sat down at his desk, head in hands, and many of the kids had taken the same route. I counted at least seven kids crying. Of course, it was sad and scary and all, but this wouldn't affect me. I didn't have any family in New York.

I sat there for the rest of class, not knowing how to handle the situation. As the bell rang, I gathered my books and headed to the hall.

Here I am now, though, in New York City, or rather, its ruins. How did I get here, you ask? Last year, after graduating, I was sent on a research team to the ruins of New York to study the effects of the bomb on the surrounding flora, fauna and people. So that brings us up to speed as to why exactly I was in the crisp April air in the middle of a city of ash and death.

I start to collect samples of the ash outside the bunker, and I have barely filled a full beaker when my colleague, Luis, runs up to me.

"Miles, you're going to want to come with me," he says, voice obscured by his thick French accent. His voice is urgent and his face looks pale, so I know something bad has happened. I drop the beaker and follow Luis in a run to the main bunker, where there's an emergency comm. All the while, my thoughts race. What's the problem? Is everyone okay?

The simple answer, I find out when I get inside, is no. In the bunker, the comm is on, people are talking in urgent tones, and this one Russian girl called Familia is crying.

I rush to the comm, which is repeating a message over and over. "We regret to inform you that there has been a bombing in Battlesford, Washington state by a Russian bomber. There will be no survivors."

My vision goes blurry and I drop to my knees. Battlesford was my home. My family lives in Battlesford. How could this be happening? Why is this happening to me of all people? My vision starts to fade as the man on the comm keeps repeating the message, and suddenly all is black.

I open my eyes to see my colleagues crowded around me. That one blonde Russian girl who was crying earlier, Familia, I think, stands in the back of the crowd looking regretful. Around me, I see Luis, Darren, Amelia, and Sophie. What happened?

"You okay, Miles?" asks Sophie, her eyes kind.

Amelia places a hand on my leg. "Miles, do you remember what happened?"

I shake my head no, afraid to speak.

The boys exchange a look, and Familia exits the room. Luis pats my leg. "Miles, I'm sorry... but Battlesford, Washington was bombed this morning. There will be no survivors."

Suddenly everything comes rushing back to me: collecting data, running to the bunker with Luis, the comm's message... I must have passed out. I shake my head again, making a decision right then and there.

"I need to go to Battlesford. I need to see for myself."

My colleagues exchange looks. "You'll have to get that cleared by Dom," Amelia says, referring to our overseer.

I nod. "Bring him here, if you would?" Amelia nods, leaving my side. "And, Amelia, tell Familia that I don't hate her and I'm not mad at her. It's not her fault."

Darren grabs the first-aid kit from the wall and starts to look at me. He shines lights in my eyes, asks me simple questions to make sure I don't have a concussion, and bandages a cut on my leg I didn't even realize I had.

When he steps back, I start to process what has happened. My family is dead. I'm going back to Battlesford, as long as Dom permits it. And I'm scared. Honestly, I'm scared.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all my beautiful people! Today, I introduced to you the amazing Rosey Whyte and Miles Gloriousus, both of the USA. To clear things up, these scenes took place about a year before the Competition was announced, and the ages at the top are not the ages these two will be when the Competition starts. They were just scenes that I felt showed off the characters of these two well.**

 **Just so you know, I will be adopting the system that some of the more recent SYOT authors have been using- check-ins. Though I appreciate reviews, I get that you have a life, and that that life is way more important than my story. That being said, I will not choose a Victor whose submitter is not reading.**

 **Our first check-in:** What is your Competitor's sexual and romantic orientation? Please keep in mind that not everyone is strictly gay or straight, and also that a person's sexual orientation can be different from their romantic orientation.

 **To submit a check-in, please PM me with a NEW thread titled "Check-ins: Tribute's Name". (ex. Check-ins: Katniss Everdeen)**

 **I hope you enjoyed meeting Rosey and Miles! Reviews are appreciated, as are charts. I'll see you all next time with the Chinese Competitors!**


	5. China Intros

_This is all so strange, so foreign. It's not like a bomb has never hit China before- we hear of bombings nearly monthly now, and go through air raid drills nearly as much- but the bombs have never had a direct influence on our household. Now, that has changed._

* * *

 _Keran "Karen" Chan (age 12, citizen of China)_

 _Taipei, Taiwan, China_

 _10 March 2234_

* * *

It's late and I have school tomorrow, but still I am up reading. It's not like I haven't finished my homework- on the contrary, I have, just not well- so I don't consider it bad at all. I don't even have problems getting up at six AM for school in the morning, so all things considered, I see no trouble with sitting up and reading for the second time the first novel of the Four Great Classical Novels of Chinese Literature, Dream of the Red Chamber. My parents do, but I don't.

It doesn't surprise me that I hear a knock at my bedroom door right as I close my book to go to bed. My parents must have noticed the little stream of light from my doorway. I sigh. My parents are always pissed off when they find me reading at three AM. They argue that my grades aren't good, but I don't see where they're coming from. I might not try as hard as I could, but I still get solid B's.

I flick off my flashlight. "What?"

My door opens and my mother walks in, face pale against the darkness. That's the first sign I see that something has gone horribly wrong.

"Keran," she says, using my Chinese given name rather than the English nickname I was given at school. "Aunty Meiling and Uncle Chunyang are in the hospital."

It's now that I hear my father on the telephone with somebody and notice that my twin brother, Zelin, who is often called Zachary, has come out of his room. He rubs his eyes as he walks into mine. "What's going on?"

"There's been a bombing," Mother explains. "Come sit, and I'll tell you the whole story. Keran, turn on your light."

I do so, sitting up in bed and reaching over to flip the switch. Zachary perches on the end of my bed. His face is pale, too.

"Kids, you know that Aunty Meiling and Uncle Chunyang live in Nanjing, on the mainland. There, they work night shifts at a factory, producing bombs for the war. It's a noble job, if a bit low-paying. Well, tonight, the British decided to bomb Nanjing."

For the first time I can remember, my mother tears up in front of us. I've never seen her cry, and I don't recall ever seeing the loud jokester Zachary cry, either. It's jarring, and I don't like it.

"My brother and his wife, your aunt and uncle, were working in the factory at the time the bomb hit. The building took a direct hit. Honestly, it is a miracle they're even still alive."

I turn and look to Zachary, and am surprised to see tears streaming down his cheeks too. Zachary doesn't cry. This is all so strange, so foreign. It's not like a bomb has never hit China before- we hear of bombings nearly monthly now, and go through air raid drills nearly as much- but the bombs have never had a direct influence on our household. Now, that has changed.

I open my mouth to speak. "Are they going to be okay?" Though it often seems that I don't care about things, and I come off as carefree and energetic, there really are a lot of things I worry about. This is just another paper on the pile.

Mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "We don't know."

A wave of nausea rushes through me. I don't know Aunty Meiling or Uncle Chunyang very well, however, the thought of never seeing them again scares me. Even though we've only spoken a few times, they always send Zachary and I a little bit of money on our birthday, and Mom and Uncle Chunyang are pretty close, or as close as you can be with someone when you live so far away.

"What's going to happen?" my twin brother asks. "Are you going to go to Nanjing to see them?"

"I am," says my mother. "You two will stay here at home with your father and do your homework-" she glances at me- "and go to bed on time. You still have another two months of school, and I expect A's on your finals."

I start to roll my eyes, but stop myself. Although I don't agree with my mother and father's traditional views on what I should do with my life, I do realize that I need to respect them nonetheless. Even if I really, really don't want to be a doctor like they want me to.

"When do you have to leave?" I ask. As much as I hate my parents' worldviews, I really do love them as people, and I don't want my mom to leave. At all.

My mother motions toward the hall. "I'm packed," she says. "My flight should hopefully take off tomorrow, early morning. As long as they don't close the airport at Nanjing, I'll touch down around nine or ten tomorrow. And I'll be at the hospital by noon, if all goes to plan."

My brother stands up. "Tell Uncle and Aunty we love them, okay? And remember, Mom, we love you too." He wraps his arms around my mother, and I join the hug.

"Stay safe, okay?" I whisper into my mother's ear. She nods against my head, and Zachary and I pull away to see her crying.

"I love you two. Go to sleep now, and I'll hopefully see you in a week or two." Zachary nods and wipes his eyes. I can tell he's trying to look strong, even through his tears. He walks out of my room, my mother in tow.

I sigh, flopping back down on the bed. I don't think I'm going to get any sleep tonight, despite what my mother told me. I pick my book back up and try to read, but I keep drifting into my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm scared for my mom and my aunt and uncle.

Again, I close my book and my eyes, and try to sleep. Needless to say, I don't get any sleep that night.

* * *

 _Hey, wanna cut class today with me? We could go eat American at McDonalds, maybe go see a movie, or go skating._

* * *

 _Tian Jin (age 15, citizen of China)_

 _Bejing, China_

 _19 March 2235_

* * *

My alarm clock jars me from my sleep, and I reach over to turn it off, yawning. I shake my head. I am not ready to get up.

In my humble opinion, six AM is much too early to wake up, especially to go sit in a desk for hours and learn all kinds of dumb stuff I'll never use in real life. Like, when am I going to need to know where the ancient Mesopotamians lived? They're all dead! And when will I need to tell someone the names of all of Henry VIII's wives? Game shows, maybe, but I'm not planning on ever signing up for a trivia game show. Maybe something to do with racing or physical challenges, since I like to think I'm rather strong, but my bladder would not hold up for two hours of life-on-the-line trivia.

I roll my eyes as I get out of bed, dressing quickly in my favorite jeans and a t-shirt advertising my favorite German pop band. Breakfast is a quick bowl of steamy rice noodles, and then I grab my backpack, kiss my mother goodbye, and head out the door with my twin brother, Qiang.

As soon as we're a fair distance from my house, I turn to Qiang. "Hey, wanna cut class today with me? We could go eat American at McDonalds, maybe go see a movie, or go skating."

Qiang looks at me like I've grown three new heads. "Are you serious, Tian?"

I gesture with my hands to the McDonalds across the street. (Side note: it's a wonder that place is still open. Most people don't go there anymore; they think it's a symbol of Western culture and don't want to be associated with America, seeing as we're kind of fighting a war against them).

Qiang shakes his head. "Really. Mom would kill us."

"Come onnnnn! Don't you want a hamburger? My treat..." I pull a fifty-yuan note from my bag.

I can tell Qiang really wants to join in with me, and it only takes a bit more coaxing for him to cave. We ditch our backpacks, locking them to a bike rack with our PE locks, and head off to McDonalds.

We order our food- an egg muffin and french fries for me, and a hamburger and fries for Qiang- and eat it as we walk down the street to the movie theater. We get a few strange looks, since it is a school day, but nothing much. The people probably think we have a break period or something.

Inside the theater, we pay for tickets to an action movie featuring some Americans being brutally murdered in the war, the Japanese bombing them as revenge for World War II (finally!), and the victory of the Chinese people in the Fourth World War. It was awesome, and I am the first to give a standing ovation at the end of the film.

"Did you see how that American dude got his arm blown off with that gun?" I ask, giddily grinning. I might not like war, but when it can't be helped, I will always support my country.

Qiang, not so much. "I don't know, I thought it was kind of gory..."

"Aw, you're no fun!" I say. "C'mon, that guy had it coming for him. He probably killed, like, ten Chinese soldiers!"

"He probably had a family."

I scoff. "Party pooper."

"At least I don't condone murder, Tian." Qiang says.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Want to go to the skate park?"

Qiang smiles, finally. "Oh, fine."

We drop by our home again, making sure first that both our parents are out at work, and that Ai, our sister, hasn't come home from college for some reason. Once we have confirmed no one is home, we slip inside, grabbing our skates and a water bottle for each of us.

The skate park is completely empty, which sort of surprises me. Even though it's a school day, there's the occasional slacker who skips school to skate. Then it hits me- Qiang and I are the slackers today.

After warming up and getting used to my skates, I start to show off to Qiang. My brother, who is much more hesitant, is content watching me skate up and down the hills, and follows behind me slowly.

We skate for a while, and then I decide that it might be fun to try something I'd never done well.

"Watch me do a backflip, Qiang!" I yell behind me.

"A backflip?"

I don't respond, instead launching myself off the top of the hill and whipping my body around in a full rotation. I land kind of short and fall a bit forward, but Qiang claps all the same. I bow.

"Do you want to do anything else before we have to go home? We have-" I check my watch- "an hour until school is over."

"Nah. Why don't we go put these skates back and head home? We could drop by Hao's place to get the homework."

"Ah, sure. That's probably a good idea- that way, Mom won't be suspicious when we don't have anything to work on."

So we head on our way to Hao Zemin's place. We're early, so we sit and wait for him on his front steps. Hao, who is Qiang's best friend and a close friend of mine, looks surprised to see us as he walks down the sidewalk, backpack in tow.

"Where were you guys?"

"We skipped today," Qiang says. "Want to give us the homework?"

It takes some convincing but we eventually get the work from Hao, and saying our goodbyes, we go home. It was a good day, much better than it would have been at school.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! Today's chapter introduced the amazing Keran "Karen" Chan and Tian Jin of China. I really enjoyed writing for these two, and hope you enjoyed reading their parts.**

 **As a reminder, I still need check-ins from about half of you! I need them from the submitters of the following Competitors, even if the answer to the check-in was mentioned on their original form:**

 _Keran Chan  
Natalya Abramovich  
Kiri Amadus  
Ronan Quinn  
Seo-Yun Choi  
Hwan Joon  
Nadia Boutros  
Gyasi Rahal  
Claudia Larkspur  
Chevy Renault  
Jannik Hasenkamp  
Helen Delgado_

 **Also, if you have not submitted the form for your Competitor in full, please do so. You know who you are!**

 **Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated, as are charts, and please get in your check-ins! I'll see you next time with the British Competitors!**


	6. Great Britain Intros

_Liz actually reads my Drarry fanfiction. Of course she does. I think reading your siblings' fanfictions, in secret or not, is, like, a rite of siblinghood._

* * *

 _Charles Lane (age 17, citizen of Great Britain)_

 _Manchester, England, United Kingdom_

 _16 June 2235_

* * *

I wake up at two-thirty in the afternoon, and I could have slept longer if it weren't for my dads waking me up. Seriously. What is their deal? They refuse to let me sleep past noon, usually, but today Dad had an appointment that Father had to take him to. It was a welcome two extra hours of sleep while it lasted.

I flop over in my bed, ironically crossing my chest as I roll my eyes. I'm not religious, but a guy's gotta pay tribute to his sleep. _RIP Charles' sleep schedule. You were fun while you lasted._

Father had flipped on the lights when he left, so there's no chance of me getting back my sleep. I roll over and throw off the covers, standing up. I toss on a tee shirt and jeans, then head downstairs for food.

"Morning, sunshine," calls Liz, my little sister, from the front room. She's twelve and obsessed with meteorology. She literally fell for one of those sites that will pretend to name a star after you for twenty pounds, and oh, boy, was that a fun conversation. I nod to her as I pass.

There's no breakfast left, which is to be expected, so I pull out some bread and make a sandwich. I munch on it and check my phone. I have three messages on my fanfiction blog, a good morning text from my boyfriend Eric, and twelve consecutive keyboard smash messages from a certain starrypurplesky on Fanfictionforyou dot com.

I tap on the messages from my close online friend. She's super cool. I call her Sky, which isn't her real name- that's Claudia. She doesn't really want to share that with the world, though, so Sky it is.

starrypurplesky: aasfjajSHKWDSFKLkshahl

(11 more messages)

0ctoberher0: what it it now

starrypurplesky: oh my GOD you finally woke up it's nothing i just wanted to tell you that your new chapter is beaUTIFUL™ and it cleared my skin and fed my children and watered my crops

0ctoberher0: oh good i thought someone died. thank you btw, i was iffy about this one

starrypurplesky: well make that voice in ur head shUT UP it's good ok i have to eat bye

0ctoberher0: /waves

I log off of the instant messenger and finish my sandwich, heading back upstairs to write. I blast music so my parents know I'm awake, then dive into the world of my fanfiction.

My head pokes up a few hours and 3000 words later when my phone buzzes- dinner. None of the new writing strikes me as very awesome, but that's usually the case. I'm only average at writing and video games, which is fine, I guess. I really like them, though, so I keep with them. It's fine. I'm fine. I don't have to be good at something to enjoy it.

Although, sometimes I wish I were as good as Sky.

I slowly make my way downstairs. I'm late, like most days, and Liz and George have already grabbed their dinners. They and my dads are at the table waiting for me.

George smiles cockily. "Nice of you to join us, Charles. What do you _do_ all day in your room?" Liz elbows him in the side and I shoot her a smile that says _thank you_. George is in that one weird teenager stage where he hates everyone and everything. Except tennis. He loves that sport like the legendary Kanye West loved Kanye West, and probably almost as much as Liz loves meteorology. Which, I might add, says a lot. Liz really loves meteorology.

Dinner isn't bad. It's some cheap chili from a can- war rations- and bread, probably homemade because it's really expensive anywhere else. I'm really only here because I have to be.

Liz talks about the new stars she realized she could see with her telescope, and how she feels stupid for not seeing them earlier on, and needing stronger glasses because she can't see the stars well when she looks up anymore. Dad and Father exchange looks at that. Money's tighter than ever, obviously, as it is whenever war happens.

George pushes his food around in his bowl, not eating, and Liz pokes him again with her bony elbow. He rolls his eyes, but does put a spoonful of chili in his mouth.

Dad talks about the latest and greatest in teacher horror stories. It's summer, so he doesn't have any of his own, but he's on this online community of teachers who have been sharing about their most embarrassing teacher moments lately. He finds the topic much funnier than anyone else at the table.

Father explains about how his new project will work. It's some fixer-upper car with old wheels and chipped paint and no windows, and he hopes to be able to make it driveable again. He says that with everything, though, and nothing ever happens. I've stopped getting my hopes up.

The family turns to me. Uh. What do I say?

"I wrote another chapter," I say. George turns away, disinterested, but Liz perks up. She actually reads my Drarry fanfiction. Of course she does. I think reading your siblings' fanfictions, in secret or not, is, like, a rite of siblinghood.

"About what?" Liz asks.

I shrug. "You know. The usual."

Liz gives me a knowing glance, but my dads are oblivious and George stopped listening years ago. Which is good. Dad and Father would probably be pissed if they found me writing gay fanfiction.

Although, maybe not. They're really chill, if I'm being honest. And they're Harry Potter nerds themselves.

Yeah, they'd probably _want_ to read it.

* * *

 _I don't think that a lot of British people will be willing to buy from us, being Russian and all. Understandably, they want to support Britain and its allies, not Russia. Here, we are the enemy._

* * *

 _Natalya Abramovich (age 14, citizen of Great Britain)_

 _London, England, United Kingdom_

 _5 September 2234_

* * *

The plane I've been sitting in for the past four hours finally touches down on the runway and people cheer. I'm not one of them, but Zarya, my little sister, is. She waves her little fists in the air and shrieks. To Zarya, this is an adventure.

To me, this is the end of an era.

I'm Russian through and through. My name is super Russian, I have that stereotypical blonde, pale Russian look, I speak fluent Russian at home. Everything about me is Russian, except, apparently, for my nationality.

I have zero idea how my parents were able to get us into Britain, with the war and all. It's really hard to get into a country that your homeland opposes, and Britain and Russia definitely count for that. But here we are, and I guess I need to just let it go. I'm going to spend my life confused about how I got British citizenship. Whatever.

I lean over to my still-yelling sister. "Zarya, shut up," I tell her. She shoots me a glare, but does as I tell her. She's always like this- overly energetic, to the point of being annoying. It pisses me off, but I love her, I guess.

Mum leans over to me. "Natalya, remember you need to keep an eye on Zarya so she doesn't run off."

"Of course, Mum."

She smiles at me, and I zone out. I'm vaguely aware that Dad and Grandfather are having some kind of conversation behind me, maybe about the house or the company.

The company! I've been worried about that. We have a building to set up our jeweler business in, but I don't think that a lot of British people will be willing to buy from us, being Russian and all. Understandably, they want to support Britain and its allies, not Russia. Here, we are the enemy.

That's scary, because I love my job. I work making little figurines for the company. It pays pretty well when my work sells, but when it doesn't, I'm left with a bunch of unwanted statues of birds and no money. I guess the best plan of action would be to make friends who would bring customers to the store, but that doesn't sound like any fun at all.

Dad and Grandfather stand up and so do Mum and Zarya. I follow their lead, and grab Zarya's little hand so she can't run off. With my free hand, I pull on my backpack and hold onto my suitcase.

As we step off of the plane and onto British soil, the reality of my new life sets in. It's scary to think that I'll probably never see home again, and that Zarya will not really remember her life in Russia. She'll grow up reading and writing English at school, not Russian, and she'll make friends with little British kids. She'll grow up and date a little British kid, and they'll get married and have little British babies. Which is weird, because I can't imagine marrying anyone but a Russian.

And honestly, at the moment, I can't imagine marrying _anyone_. I don't really have friends. That's partly due to our recent move, but even back in Russia, I had no friends. I spend my days at school, working hard to get my schoolwork done so I can spend the afternoons at work in the figurine shop. It works out. No one talks to me and I don't talk to anyone else. I just hope that'll stay the same here in England.

We hurry through the bustling airport with our bags in tow, and as soon as we make it out of the doors, we're blasted with warm air. I'd forgotten that Russia is much colder than most of the rest of the world, and that here, the temperature actually gets above 35 degrees Celsius. I quickly start to sweat as my family stands in the pick-up zone waiting to hail a taxi.

Zarya complains about the heat, but when is she not complaining? I pull off her jacket, but it doesn't stop her.

"Natalya, I'm hot!" she says, in Russian. We're all fluent in both English and Russian, but we speak Russian at home. I would figure, though, that she'd have the common sense to speak English here. If anyone hears our speech and can identify that it's not English, they'll be skeptical of us.

"English, Zarya," I chide her. She rolls her eyes, and just then a cab rolls up. My dad waves it down and we pile in. Dad rattles off the address. As the cab ride begins, I stare out the window like the girls do in all the old-timey movies and think.

I think about my figurines. I wish that I didn't have to leave all of them behind in Russia, and I hope with all I have that the one fish statue I brought didn't break on the journey. I wrapped it in all my thick wool socks, but you can never be too careful.

I think about Grandfather. I think of how frail he is, how he often complains of aching joints and stiff fingers. There are easy fixes for those- this isn't the 2010's- but it still pains _me_ to think that my sweet old grandfather is in pain.

I think about school. I think about how far behind I'll be in the fall- though I speak and read English pretty well, and maths carries over through the languages, I know nothing about British history. And, well, I guess my Russian brain will be a little confused at first, listening to English, English, nothing but English all day at school.

And I think of home, of how much I'll miss Russia, of my internal battles on who to support in the war efforts, of all the political and diplomatic parts of my move but also how much I'll miss the beautiful mountains and crisp air and snow.

God, I miss it already.

* * *

 **A/N: Well… hi. I hope y'all don't hate me. I know, it's been like six months. I am dedicated though, to this and to HTWB, so uh I guess just have faith in me.**

 **Today we met the amazing Charles Lane and Natalya Abramovich from Great Britain! I hope you liked reading them. One was a little harder to write than the other, but I fully enjoyed problem solving just as much as I enjoyed sitting down to write a 1000 word POV in one sitting (and succeeding :))**

 **Big news! There's a discord for this story and my other one, HTWB! PM me for the link- I don't feel comfortable releasing it to the public, but if I recognize you, I'll let you in- and if I don't, just remind me who you are :)**

 **Anyway. Get in your check-ins, please. I think you'll know if you haven't turned one in, but I'll try to put a list in the discord if you don't. And, uh, to the one submitter who still hasn't finished their submission, please get that in!**

 **Sorry again for how long this took! I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are appreciated, so are charts, and I'll see you all next time with Australia's Kiri and Ronan :)**


	7. The End Is Only The Beginning

**I never thought I'd be doing this. But here I am.**

 **It's with a heavy heart that I'm announcing the cancellation of my current SYOT's, Running and Spoils of War. I'm sure everyone has expected this for a while. SoW hasn't updated in almost a year, and I haven't updated Running in months, either.**

 **The biggest reason for me deciding to cancel my SYOT's is that I have lost my love for fanfiction. I still love to write, especially poetry, though original fiction has a special place in my heart as well. However, I prefer to do it on my own schedule, with no pressure from others, no one to let down.**

 **Not only have I lost my love for SYOT's, but my schedule simply does not leave time for the rigor that writing SYOT's places on me. I'm sure no one cares about my schedule but it's PACKED. I'm out of the house until 7 most nights, and have homework to do. I've found myself struggling for the first time to write for fun, be it any kind of writing, simply because there isn't time in the day. It's only going to get worse from here, too. I start the very rigorous college-prep IBDP program next year, and that continues until the end of high school.**

 **I'll stop rambling about my schedule, though, and go back to reason one. I learned an important lesson last year when I quit gymnastics: If you don't love it, there's no use doing it. Of course, SYOT's have given me so many happy memories—skyping with my SYOT pals, RP CAH, the SYOT awards, reading the victories of Aly and Kiri, writing Peridot's victory scene… I've made so many good friends over FFN, but I think my time on the site is coming to a close.**

 **Regardless, I hope that you can forgive me. I'm sorry that I disappointed my readers. That is the last thing I ever, ever wanted to do. But I'm caring for myself, now, and believe me, it's really great.**

 **Feel free to contact me over PM or Discord if you'd like to stay in touch. Otherwise, for the last time... have a great day, and I'll hopefully see you later.**

* * *

Placements for Spoils of War are below the linebreak.

* * *

24th: Hyperion Westfall, blown up by stepping off his landmine

23rd: Mina Miori, killed by Kazuki

22nd: Gyasi Rahal, killed by Irena

21st: Rosey Whyte, killed by Miles

20th: Kazuki Miori, killed by Tian

19th: Keran Chan, killed by Hwan

18th: Miles Gloriousus, killed by wolves

17th: Natalya Abramovich, killed by Harri

16th: Tian Jin, killed by himself

15th: Kiri Amadus, killed by Ronan

14th: Ronan Quinn, killed by Kiri (bled out)

13th: Bill Nye, killed by science (explosion)

12th: Chevy Renault, killed by shrapnel from Bill's explosion

11th: Nadia Boutros, died of thirst

10th: Seo-Yun Choi, killed by Harri

9th: Jannik Hasenkamp, killed by Claudia

8th: Vadim Solokov, killed by Charles

7th: Irena Petrov, killed by Vadim (bled out)

6th: Helen Delgado, killed by exposure

5th: Lina Perez, killed by exposure

4th: Harri Deitcher, killed by Charles

3rd: Charles Lane, killed by Hwan

2nd: Hwan Joon, killed by Claudia

1st: Claudia Larkspur


End file.
